


Crossing Proverbial Lines

by BecomeMyObsession



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1192737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecomeMyObsession/pseuds/BecomeMyObsession
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mathesons are excellent fighters, strong-willed stubborn survivors with a knack for killing. Yet they have one common weakness... Sebastian Monroe. (x-posted from Fanfiction.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Proverbial Lines

**Author's Note:**

> So, first post on A03! My posts on here will generally be x-posts from fanfiction.net. Bit nerve-wracking posting to a new site... don't really know what I'm doing! 
> 
> This kinda came from nowhere but I've been working on it awhile and now it's finally finished. It's a little different from my usual writing style as there is basically no dialogue (well, maybe one line) and it's more of a character profile written from Charlie's perspective. I just find Charlie's character so interesting, she's been through so much and changed as a result. Her darker side it's an interesting area to explore - I might delve into it more at a later date.
> 
> This is set between 2x09 and 2x10. It was never explained how they found Aaron and what happened between getting Miles out of the school to Bass and Charlie rescuing Gene. It wasn't planned, but the story just fell in between those two timelines. It seems to gain more of a plot as it goes on, which again wasn't planned. My mind and fingers kind of run away with me... I'm just a catalyst.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy. :)

-Crossing Proverbial Lines-

It wasn't intentional; Charlie just had a habit of realising things at the most inappropriate times.

Right now she was watching Bass snoop around the piles of rubble, prodding the charred bodies with the butt of his gun. She grimaced as he looked up and grinned, a bright wide smile which made Charlie's heart leap. She had to remind herself that it was only a smile, he wasn't really that happy it was just the way he face was set. Still, the way he smiled was like she was the sun and he had been standing in rain for months. No wonder people followed him into battle. Though she had to admit that they had been outnumbered; and the help – no matter how weird – was heavily appreciated.

She grinned back and climbed to her feet, automatically reaching for the hand Bass had out to help her. Once they were both standing, they stood staring at each other, both still alive and mostly intact, again. 'Come on.' He gestured his head towards the double doors they had busted through earlier. They had to regroup. He let go of her hand, which she hadn't realised he had still been holding, and turned away, his step light as he retraced their earlier footsteps. She watched him walk away, knowing he was unguarded and his back unprotected and realised that she had no intention of harming him. Her gun was slack in her hands as he retreated further and further away from her. And that was when she clicked, like a lock falling into place. She swallowed back an audible hiss through her teeth.

She'd crossed the line… and there was no going back.

Bass was still walking away, though he had slowed down probably realising she wasn't following. She jogged to catch up with him; he glanced at her when she reached him but stayed silent understanding that she was in deep thought. They walked side by side in comfortable silence, stealthily peering around empty classrooms for any signs of life. Charlie kept one eye on him in her side vision as they walked. Here they were, once again fighting side by side and though she loathed to admit it but they worked efficiently well as a team. Which when she thought about it, was probably why Miles kept putting them together. Bass looked at her before turning to scope out another room. He had obviously figured it out as well, or he wouldn't have been so unconcerned about leaving himself open to attack.

She cursed herself for not noticing the line before she'd crossed it.

She'd pictured Miles holding the gun to Bass's head thousands of times, wondering why he hadn't just pulled the trigger the first time – or any of the other times when he'd had the chance. Secretly she'd seethed about it, hating how he kept letting Bass escape with his life over and over. But now she understood. Miles had crossed the proverbial line years before the blackout, and no matter how much he'd claimed he hated his former best friend – there was never any chance he'd have been able to kill him.

Charlie had imagined herself ending Sebastian Monroe's life hundreds of times when he'd been General, hell she'd been so hell bent on revenge after the tower that she had trekked across the nations and hunted him down until he'd been within arms width. She tried to picture herself killing the man who was walking next to her now and immediately swallowed the searing ache that clenched in her stomach. She couldn't do it, she was just as weak as Miles around Sebastian Monroe, both unable to kill the man that had ruined their own lives and thousands of others. She frowned.

Heck, maybe the Monroe's and Matheson's were destined to be burdened with each other… for eternity.

She snorted at that. Bass looked at her curiously but she shook her head. Another time. She looked away, how did she not figure that the non-verbal communication with Bass was a sign of trouble? The final steps in crossing the line that she hadn't seen. She inwardly groaned, there had been warnings she'd just been stupid enough to miss them. Or ignore them. He'd saved her life and she'd saved his, they'd fought together and killed together, they'd shed blood together; that created a sort of bond that no one other than Miles would understand. Miles had warned her that fighting messed with your head and she should have paid more attention to his warnings, because backcrossing that line was impossible. She'd seen that much with Miles and she knew she couldn't end Bass's life even if she wanted too, she wouldn't be able to pull the trigger.

She wondered if he felt the same way.

He hadn't left her to die.

She'd noticed her Mother's suspicious glances, her Grandpa's side long judgmental stares and Miles' I'm trying to hide it, but really I'm glad you're here looks aimed towards Bass. She didn't know when she'd become so alert to how others viewed him; before it had simply been her and her burning hatred and desire to end his miserable life. She shook her head, biting back a self-disrespecting scoff. When had life become so complicated? She was pathetic, couldn't even keep hold of a simple grudge.

Then again, had she really put that much effort into it?

He had saved her life multiple times, and she'd returned the favour by persuading her mother to switch the drugs. She hadn't done it out of obligation, she didn't feel she owed him anything. But if someone asked her that would be exactly her answer, now they were even. Except they weren't, she hadn't saved him out of some misguided act to repay the favour for saving her life. It wasn't even really because they needed him; which they did, she'd told her mom that and it had worked. All she knew was when she thought about him not being there, it hurt, she couldn't explain it but over the past few weeks she had come to expect him to be there. He watched her back, she watched his, it wasn't spoken about but they both knew they'd go down fighting for the other. His presence had been a constant in the back of her mind all her life; he'd been the bogey monster who loomed on the propaganda posters plastered to trees and crumbling buildings, then he became the bastard who stole her family from her - who she knew she needed to kill to find some sort of fragile peace and finally he became the man who saved her life, who wanted to reconcile for his misgivings. She noticed him watching her when he thought she wasn't paying attention. She was Charlotte Matheson, his closest link to Miles and his best bet of finding his way back to the man he once was.

Charlie often wondered if that was even possible.

She often wondered if she was losing herself.

They found an unconscious Miles cradled in her mom's arms sooner than she thought. They were holed up in what she guessed was an old History classroom. Her first thought was for the history books in the future; what would they say about the Monroe Republic? The Matheson's? Her thoughts died when she heard her mother's quiet sobs. Both her and Bass stopped in the entrance, watching her mother for a second before she cleared her throat to announce their presence. Her mother's head shot up, she eyed the two of them and rubbed her eyes but it was already too late Charlie had seen her mother's tears and knew it was bad. She swallowed back her own panic and looked at Bass to find he was already looking at her. His eyes boring into hers, imploring.

She bit her lip and nodded. They weren't out of danger yet and she couldn't afford to break down until they were safe. She wasn't going to break down, not while Miles was still alive and he wasn't going to be dying anytime soon. He and Bass were invincible. Miles was not going to die. She swallowed again and brushed past Bass's arm and reached her mother, slightly pushing her out the way and crouching down next to her uncle. She said his name, she wasn't expecting an answer but she wasn't surprised when he turned his head slightly in her direction. She ignored her mother's poorly covered jealously as she stared at her daughter, they had to move and had no time to be arguing about why Miles responded to her and not her mother.

She and Bass both knew it was because he was used to hearing her voice in battle and somewhere in his subconscious he knew he was gravely injured. It was natural for a wounded soldier to respond to his comrades first. There was no point trying to explain that to her mother. She wouldn't understand.

But that's what Charlie was now; a soldier. It had taken her a while to accept it but she had more in common with Bass and Miles than she did with her mother.

Perhaps that was why she hadn't stopped herself from crossing the line.

She was grateful Bass took charge. Heaving Miles' arm over one shoulder and commanding her mother to take the other. Charlie was the lookout, he trusted her to have his back while he dragged Miles from the building. It was unspoken understanding that they would come back for Aaron later. It took them awhile, with Charlie using her hand to stop their procession while she peered around corners and into empty rooms, but eventually they made it out the school and Charlie led them in the direction of an abandoned cellar under a warehouse. She and Bass had stayed there on their way into Willoughby.

Her mother asked where she was going, she didn't answer. Bass replied, answering her mother's repeated question. He knew she was struggling to keep her mind clear, they were out of immediate danger and the thought of losing another person, especially Miles, was heart-wrenchingly painful. She knew he could sympathise. He was the only other person who had lost nearly everyone he cared about.

She'd seen what happened to him when Miles walked out on him; the result had been an out-of-control unhinged dictator with an unhealthy addiction to killing. She didn't want to think what would happen if he lost Miles again. Or what would happen to her for that matter. Every time someone else slipped through her fingers her killings became that little angrier, that little bit more uncontrolled.

Miles was keeping them both grounded.

They couldn't afford to lose him.

Her mother had pointed it out once. When she was already angry at her and had one drink to many, stumbling through her Grandpa's front door and spotting her daughter sitting on the worn couch cleaning her gun. It was a dirty job but it had to be done. Her mom had only said it to hurt her, to cause some reaction out of her. Charlie thought it was needy and pathetic that her mother had needed to hurt her to make herself feel better. But somewhere in her mother's words there was a hurtful truth. You're just like them you know. Her mother had raised an eyebrow. Miles and Bass. You have the same look in your eyes when you kill that Miles does; like you secretly enjoy it but you'd never admit it. Her mom hadn't stopped there. Sometimes there's this emptiness in your eyes, it's the same as Bass's and I know Miles can see it. You both have a seriously unhealthy attachment to him. Her mother had soon passed out after that, leaving Charlie cleaning the gun, thoughts churning over her mother's words.

Charlie had been trying to avoid the same path as Miles and Bass, but with the world she was in – all the killing and torturing – sometimes it seemed the only way she could survive.

She told herself it was only compartmentalising. She had to push the compassion away when she was killing. She couldn't afford to care when slitting throats. She would stop and care later. Charlie glanced at Bass over her shoulder as they reached the cellar, pulling open the heavy metal latch and pushing the doors aside.

She wondered if he told himself the same thing.

She left on her own to find Aaron later that night. Bass had wanted to go with her, she could hear it in his voice when he asked her to leave it to morning. But she had to go now, she had to do something. She couldn't stare at her mother curled in Miles' arms any longer. she couldn't linger in her thoughts any longer. She needed to get away. Bass let her go, he seemed to understand.

She still didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

She found Aaron kneeling over Cynthia in a pool of blood. She lay her hand on his shoulder, showing silent support as he grieved. She watched Cynthia's silent still body and hoped she went quickly, bleeding out wasn't a fun way to go. She bit back a sigh, feeling guilty for the relief she felt; it was better Cynthia then Aaron. She couldn't afford to lose another person she regarded as family. There was barely anyone left. Though she wouldn't wish what Aaron was feeling on anyone.

She let him sob for close to half an hour before she squeezed his shoulder, muttering softly that they had to go before Truman and the other patriots came looking for Horn. She did her best to hide the glee she felt at seeing his burnt out corpse slumped over the stairs; one less bad guy to worry about. He refused at first, but after two minutes of gentle persuading he stood up, shaky on his feet. She balanced him and sent him a small encouraging smile. They left the building quickly, she led him to the emergency exit Bass had briefly left through earlier. She smiled bitterly at the memory of him coming to save her, again. If Aaron noticed he didn't comment.

They reached Bass, Miles and Rachel in no time. There hadn't been any change. Miles was still unconscious with Rachel curled under his arm. Bass was stood now though, knife in hand as she dropped herself through the cellar doors and helped Aaron down. He raised an eyebrow for not using the code he'd taught her on the way to Willoughby. She shrugged guiltily, grumbled out that it was pointless anyway. He rolled his eyes and muttered something about her being just like Miles. It had been pointed out before.

'You sound just like Miles.'

'Well, maybe that isn't such a bad thing right now.'

She shook herself from the memory, asking Bass to repeat himself. She hadn't been listening. He cracked a small non-amused grin but complied. He suggested that they find Gene; her Grandpa should be able to save Miles. Heck, he had to save Miles. She nodded, he looked surprised for a moment that she'd agreed but she knew when to admit he was right. They spent the rest of the evening planning different scenarios of how to bust Gene out of patriot haven. Talking through ideas and pointing out the obvious flaws in each other's plans.

It used to freak Charlie out how well they worked together.

Now it was a normal part of their day.

They bickered about whether they should wait till tomorrow night or act now. Charlie thought they should wait, see if Miles survived the night – which he had too – or there wasn't really any point attempting a rescue. Bass disagreed, he said they needed to hit the patriots while they were still down, before they had time to regroup. Charlie could see the logic, but she didn't want to leave Miles without knowing if he was going to make it, so she disagreed. Bass was annoyed, he pointed out that he was more experienced; that he had more practice. She said she knew what she was doing.

If her mother was paying any attention she didn't show it. She kept her eyes closed and snuggled in Miles side, trying to find comfort wherever she could. Charlie could tell something had gone down between the two of them before they arrived. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what, either way it was an issue for another time.

She rolled at her eyes when Bass came to a compromise, but nodded an agreement. It was probably the only solution available, they were both too stubborn to admit the other was right. God knows how Miles put up with them. They agreed to wait till just before dawn. That way it was still dark but they had waited out most the night. Charlie slid back against the wall, one knee up and the other sprawled in front of her. Bass sat beside her, passing her the bottle of whiskey he'd disguarded for his gun earlier. She took a swig and passed it back. They sat like that for hours, the bottle passed between the two of them. Just enough to keep their frayed nerves settled but still enabling them to attack with a clear head if needed. Charlie wondered how many times he'd done this with Miles; just sitting and waiting with only southern comfort for company. The situation was dire and the future wasn't looking good either but as Charlie sat in companionable silence with Bass she realised that she hadn't felt quite so peaceful in a long time.

She figured it was probably the alcohol making her mushy.

Another bad habit she'd picked up from Miles. Before she left for Chicago she'd never experienced the buzz that she was so accustomed to now. Turning to the bottle when everything looked so dark and crappy seemed to be the only thing keeping her sane. She tried to keep it to a minimal with her mother around, but that never worked out. The Matheson's were fully-functioning alcoholics, it ran in the family.

'Stop moping Matheson.' Bass nudged her shoulder playfully. 'Your broody thoughts are sending out negative vibes.'

She cracked a small smile and shoved him back, welcoming the small chatter that started up between them. Her thoughts weren't a great place to be right now. She often found herself lost in her own head. The blood, gore and torture didn't affect her, what bothered her was how it didn't bother her. What was she turning into? Bass pressed the bottle back into her hands, muttering that she could have the rest. She nodded gratefully and mumbled a thanks, she clutched onto the bottle like it was a lifeline keeping her above water.

They both knew when it was time to move. Bass eased to his feet and held out a hand, she took it just as easily as she had earlier and let him help her to her feet. She left the now empty bottle leaning against the wall. They set about collecting their weapons; strapping swords to their belts. Bass slid his knife into his boot and Charlie slung her crossbow over her back. They straightened up and looked at each other. It was time to move. Charlie bid her mother a goodbye, her mother didn't answer – she wasn't expecting one and ran her hand through Miles' hair. His body was damp and sticky with sweat, they had to move fast.

They stepped out into the dark, closing the doors behind them and headed off back into Willoughby. No words were needed as they travelled, they knew how each other worked. What their weaknesses were – not that they had many. No one bothered them on their short journey, and Charlie thanked her lucky stars for a free pass for once. They climbed up onto a roof in front of the building Gene was being held in and scoped out the surrounding area.

Charlie glanced at Bass from the corner of her eyes as he counted the guards quietly. For some reason she felt as though this was the last time they would be working together for a while. The thought wasn't a positive one. Not only did she no longer want him dead, she missed him when he wasn't working with them. She was in deep and she never was good at climbing out of holes she dug for herself. She had well and truly crossed a line and with her abandonment issues it was going to be virtually impossible for her to re-cross the line – there were too little people she cared about left.

Bass turned his head, raised an eyebrow when he found her staring at him. She shrugged a shoulder guiltily and he smirked, his startling eyes knowing. They stared at each other for a second before he gestured with his head towards the building, she replied with a nod and a small smile. She pushed back all thoughts, letting her face slip into the mask she wore in battle and locked her feelings away. She pulled her crossbow from her back; loading up an arrow, pulling back the string and taking aim. She glanced at Bass and he nodded with his eyes.

Go.

She released the arrow.

**Author's Note:**

> The End. I quite like the last line, links everything together quite nicely. :). Hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Stick with me for more - hopefully!  
> \- N x


End file.
